


You Oughta Know

by Finn4



Category: Daisy Jones & The Six - Taylor Jenkins Reid
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26411230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finn4/pseuds/Finn4
Summary: When you’re convinced the person you love is going to throw it all away...it makes more sense to be the person who does it first.Or does it?
Relationships: Billy Dunne/Camila Dunne, Billy Dunne/Daisy Jones
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

** Camila Dunne **

I never meant things to happen with Greg the way that they did. I mean, he knew I had always held a flame for him. And I knew that the feeling was mutual. But that was all it was. Knowledge.An unspoken emotion between us that had the slightest tingle of “what if...” But he was married. And I was married. And I loved Billy. I loved him so much it hurt. I loved him so much that when I knew, and I just knew, he was being unfaithful....it broke me. It broke me open in a way I can’t explain and I started to feel like, how stupid am I? I give him my trust blindly and he abuses it and I have a man just a phone call away who I know would give me all the things I need. Who would never ask me to leave Billy. Who would let me love Billy but...be with him. The longer I thought about it in those terms, the harder it was to fight.

When I told Billy I was meeting Greg for lunch that day he barely looked up at me. I have to admit I wanted to see some jealousy. But it made me realize that he would never have dreamt that I would sleep with anyone but him. Whether it was his ego or just his faith in me or the fact that after having three babies for him he was sure I was anything but desirable to anyone else. I think in my mind I convinced myself it was a cocktail of all three. I lingered in the living room. He was bouncing Susana in his lap, the other girls were fast asleep. He was reading to her. I was justmaking myself busy...walking past him several times. Asking if he wanted anything before I left. At one point he glanced up and I think it was only because he was wondering what the hell I was still doing there. He seemed to notice, maybe, that I had put more effort into my appearance than I might have if I was running for groceries. But he only paused a second before smiling gently and telling me to have a good time. 

When he smiled I thought about not going. I thought about making sure it was only lunch. But if Billy could smell my perfume or take note of the gold hoops I was wearing...he wouldn’t know that I had put a lot of thought into the black lace panties I had on underneath or how neatly I was sure to shave my legs. I just grabbed my purse and headed for the car before I gave him a chance to smile at me again. His smile could do so many things to me. When he would sing with Daisy Jones and I would see it all over his face that he was in love with her...he would turn to me and smile...those dimples and the way his eyes could be so warm...and I would forget it. I would forget feeling sad and remember that he was mine. But that day as I was leaving his smile made me angry. I thought, you’re so out of touch with me, Billy Dunne, that you don’t even know what I am about to do. To you. To us.

Greg and I met for lunch at The Ivy. It was fancier than it needed to be because as soon as I saw him it was obvious that lunch was a formality. He hugged me warmly, probably for too long.We made small talk over lunch. I barely ate. He had a burger. We talked about our kids, he asked about Billy. It was cordial but rushed. As we were waiting for our ticket he mentioned that he had an apartment nearby that he kept for business. Out near the airport. He passed it off like he was sure I didn’t want to be seenin public with someone else and we needed privacy. Needed privacy, indeed. He suggested he drive me there but I offered to follow him. I knew myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t want to have a whole lots of cozy time after and I would probably need to just...go.

I followed him through the city to his place. Checking my hair, fixing my face. Willing myself to go through with it. Knowing how badly I wanted to feel loved and needed and this tiny voice inside me still asking...if you hade never met Billy Dunne and Greg was your husband...who would you be? I wanted to know. And I wanted to know that there was a flickering hope of another life for me as I started to slowly convince myself that I was losing the one I had worked so hard for. 

I followed him silently up the stairs to his place. Even once we were inside we barely spoke.Finally he asked if I needed a drink. I did. I never drank anymore, not with Billy fighting constantly for sobriety. He poured me a glass of white wine and it has been so long it tasted like heaven and went down too fast. I had barely finished it when he was closing on me. 

“You’re so beautiful. You know I think you’re more beautiful than you were in high school? I think you get more beautiful every time I see you....” He said all the right things. All the things I needed to hear.

“I don’t know how that asshole can stand on stage with anyone else and not just want to spend his life with you. Every second. I wouldn’t leave you alone for a second. You know that?”

I closed my mouth on his, mostly to shut him up. One, in this moment...as I was getting ready to throw my marriage away...Billy wasn’t the asshole, I was. And he didn’t realize that watching Billy onstage was when I loved him most. That I didn’t want a suit and tie and a place by the airport. 

He kissed me harder than I would have imagined he would and his hands were in my hair. I pressed against him and started to unbutton his shirt and pull his suit coat off of him. He reached up to undo his tie and I lost myself in the idea that I had never even seen Billy in a tie, much less had to help him undo one so he could fuck me. It was so foreign to me. It excited me and brought me back to reality all at once. He moved his hands to the hem of my shirt and I thought he would push them up into it to feel my breasts but before I knew any different he had pushed one down into my bell bottoms and right inside my panties and right inside...me.

Myself aside, and unless you count feminine products...nothing had ever been inside me that wasn’t a part of Billy Dunne. His mouth, his cock, his hands. And suddenly with no warning I was full of someone else. I had to pinch my eyes closed and stop thinking so I could just enjoy it. I wanted so badly to enjoy it.I was backing us against the couch and undoing my pants. He eased me down and pulled them from my legs, which I spread immediately and pulled my panties to the side. My chest was heaving so hard I could barely focus on much else. Until he dove between my thighs, opened me further with his hands, and covered me with his mouth. It was gentle at first. Then his tongue was probing in and out of me and I was humping up off the couch and into the air. Pushing against his face. He didn’t let up. He fingered my clit so quickly it was almost too much as he pushed his tongue deeper into me, moaning my name. I was so close to cumming and I locked my legs around his shoulders. He pulled his mouth from me and turned to kiss my thigh as I heard him undoing his buckle. 

“Do you have a condom?” I asked him, proud of myself for being together enough to realize that I was comfortable with some risks...but not others.

He pulled his wallet from the back of his pants and produced one and for a moment I thought...this is not your first rodeo, is it? He slid it over himself as he sprung from his pants and I was again struck by something I had never seen Billy do. We either had babies or he pulled out. Ever since Julia we knew our odds of getting pregnant easily, but we still never messed with condoms. He was different from Billy. Shorter and thicker. Curved in a way that Billy didn’t. I was still lost in those thoughts as he was pushing inside of me. I clawed at his shoulders and called out for him as he grabbed my calves and held them in the air. Pushing my legs apart and opening me to him. He was making so much sound and I closed my eyes to listen, having fantasized about him for so long and what he would sound like. I was rocking my hips into him and listening...and watching...and begging myself silently to keep Billy from my mind. It was harder than I thought. I reached between us and rubbed my clit but he took my hand and told me he could make me cum without it. 

So, ok, then. I didn’t think about how much it turned Billy on when I did it. That he never took it personally. I started to feel this overwhelming unease that I was fighting against. Hard.

He came deep inside of me, his face pinched and contorted as I watched him break out in a sweat. So I faked a pretty good one, too, and he ooohed and ahhed at me as it happened. I hadn’t had to fake it with Billy since the nights of whiskey dick where he could go for hours without being able to cum and I would be desperate to go to sleep. He pulled from me and rolled onto the floor by the couch, pulling the condom off and tying it up as he set it aside. He leaned back onto the couch, looking up at me. We were both still mostly clothed. I smiled at him as he played with the hem of my shirt.

“Damn, Camila. That was better than I imagined. And I didn’t even get to see your tits yet....”

I curled onto my side and faced him. He must not have as good of an imagination as I did.

“Yet? You think this is going to be a regular thing?” I teased him gently, anxious to hear his answer.

“I was hoping so. You’re not happy...right?” He leaned into me and propped up on an elbow.

If that wasn’t the million dollar question. Was I happy? I thought too long and my answer bothered me. I was not happy. In that moment. I was thinking: I want to be cuddled on the couch with my man and my baby and listen to the voices he does when he reads The Little Engine That Could. 

I just winked at him and asked to go to the bathroom.

I washed my mouth. I sat on the toilet and practically scrubbed myself raw with water from the sink. I wished that I had planned this next part better because as much as the voice in my head told me to go home...I was terrified to.

I slunk back out and explained to Greg that I had to go. I made up a lie I can’t remember and he didn’t fight me but at the door, he took my hand and told me I COULD love him. Not that he loved me or that I loved him, but that we COULD. He kissed me again as I left and walked down the stairs, practically running to the car.

I sat there for a minute. Trying to collect myself. Smelling my shirt, making sure there wasn’t anything I was missing or that was out of place. I drove home the long way and as slow as I possibly could.

When I walked in the front door there was music blaring and it smelled like waffles. Julia ran to me and flung herself into the air. She was covered in maple syrup and I welcomed it. I needed to be, too.

“Daddy made waffles! FOR DINNER!” She shrieked and as if on cue the twins bounded from the kitchen in nothing but underpants, syrup everywhere.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m gonna throw them in the bath....I promise!!” Billy yelled from the kitchen.

They were running around when he came into the room, no shirt. Just jeans. Carrying a plate of waffles. He handed it to me and kissed my cheek. I felt him inhale sharply and then lean back and stare at me. We looked at each other for awhile and then he smiled a devious sort of half smile.

“That was a pretty long lunch meeting....” He spoke lowly and my heart sank but I smiled.

“I haven’t seen him in forever. We had so much to catch up on. You know how it goes.....” I tucked my hair nervously and it was definitely my tell. He shrugged and gave an audible “huh.”

“I guess...I guess I don’t know how that goes.....” he sounded sad but only just. Julia had danced between us and I watched him swing her into the air and carry her up the stairs under his arm. Hollering at the twins that it was bath time. The four of them ran upstairs and into the bathroom. I heard the water start and sat down my bag. And my baggage. And went into the guest bathroom to throw up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Billy Dunne**

  
There was a time in my life where I was a horrible husband to Camila. Really, I don’t know if horrible covers it. I didn’t deserve her. In fact there was a stretch of time when I woke up most mornings being sure that it was the day she finally got sick of my shit and took off. Catching me with girls, finding evidence of the ones she didn’t catch. Cleaning up a bathroom full of puke when I’d come home so fucked up I couldn’t see straight. I don’t know how or why she stayed with me for as long as she did.  
  


The first time we broke up, right before I left for LA with the band and she decided she couldn’t...I knew I loved her. I knew I loved her in a way I was gonna keep loving her whether I was with her or not. I’d either marry her and stay with her forever, or any other woman I ever settled for would have to live up to the standard of this woman I had fallen so hard in love with that there was no going back. But even with that kind of knowledge I continued to unravel around her.   
  


And she still stuck it out.   
  


But once I got clean, when Julia was born, that was it for me. I didn’t just get on the wagon, man, I was gonna drive it. I was gonna be in control of my life and my marriage and my addiction and my family. I was going to do it for her because I owed her that. But I never once fell off that wagon, certainly not in the way she thought I had.

Now I won’t sit here and say that a part of me, I don’t even know how big, but that a part of me didn’t...doesn’t... love Daisy Jones. I won’t lie and say it didn’t take just as much effort to not sleep with Daisy as it did to not drink whiskey. I also won’t say that I was blind to what was going on between us: the emotional affair that we had taken off on even if it was under the guise of writing that album. I knew I felt it, I knew she felt it, and I knew Camila felt it. But that was all it was...a feeling. Sometimes those are out of your fucking control. It’s acting on those feelings that you have control over. And I never once, not one time, did I lose control of how to act. I came home to my wife and my family. Every. Time.

So there I was.

I was giving the girls a bath, hosing them off with the shower head and intentionally spraying them in ways that would elicit giggles and screams cause that sound was the only thing drowning out the voice in my head that pointing out the truth: _your wife didn’t just “have lunch.”_ I kept waiting for Camila to come in and join us. She took on the lion’s share of the parenting when I was on the road or in the studio, so when I was home I took over and I reveled in it. But she usually wanted to be a part of that, too. I let them linger in there a bit but once I knew she wasn’t coming...we dried off, brushed teeth, combed hair and got ready for bed. Julia asked where her mommy was so I told her to run downstairs and kiss her goodnight while I tucked the twins in.

She wasn’t down there long before she bounded back. I asked her what mommy was doing, and she told me she was sitting in the kitchen. I smiled and nodded a little. Julia and I sung to the twins until they started to nod off, then I lifted her onto my back and down the hall to her room. I eased her into her giant pink bed and knelt by it. She had started this secret handshake thing so I had her walk me through the steps before I kissed her forehead. 

“Mommy seems tired,” she told me and then asked me to help make her feel better. I told her I would try. I shut her light off, glanced back at her, and then shut the door. I gave the twins a little peek, too, wanting everyone to be fast asleep before I headed down.

I went into our room and hovered there for a bit. I pulled a shirt out and got dressed. Ran my fingers through my hair and looked in the mirror for a long while, trying to play out in my mind how this might go. Then I forced myself down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was still a mess. Flour, syrup, cereal...everywhere. And Camila, sitting at the table pulling her earrings off with her feet up on the chair across from her. I smiled at her weakly and then went about cleaning up.

”Can I get you anything to eat?” I asked her, half knowing that she would tell me she had a big lunch. And that’s exactly what she said. But it was after seven, so I didn’t let it go like I maybe should have.

“Yeah? What did you have?” She didn’t answer right away, then whispered that she had a salad.   
  
“That’s a pretty big lunch....” I told her as I turned to face her, leaning my hands on the edge of the counter, crossing my ankles, trying to gauge her reactions.

She just stared at me. She knew I knew.

“You wanna talk about?” I asked, trying desperately to keep my cool. Reminding myself that I trusted her. That I had to trust her. But I was starting for feel my temperature rise. She looked like she might cry, pursing her lips from side to side as she thought up a response.

“Talk about what? You need details?”

And there it was. I expected at least a denial the first time out. But she didn’t waste anyone’s time. I guess in a way I respected that. But it knocked the wind out of me, too. Sitting there...staring at my wife...knowing she had just been with someone else.   
  


We were silent for so long. Just staring at each other. Hurting in our own ways.

“So was it good?” I asked her. In a voice I almost didn’t recognize. I don’t know if I asked her to hurt me or to hurt her. But the truth is I did want to know. I know it sounds crazy but I did. I wanted to know exactly what she had done.

”Jesus, Billy” she spat it out at me as she stood up like she wanted to leave, but I stopped her. I put myself right in her way and I made her look at me. Right at me.

I asked her if she let him fuck her and it sounded vulgar because I wanted it to be vulgar. I wanted it to make her uncomfortable. I wasn’t about to ask her if he made love to her because frankly, it would have hurt me more.

She slapped me. Told me it was none of my business. So I grabbed her wrist and asked her again. I told her it absolutely was my business if the mother of my children was letting some other guy come in her. I asked her if she let him fuck her and she yelled yes. So I yelled back and asked her...again...if it was good. She didn’t answer and she was getting upset.   
  


Then she dropped it on me.   
  


“Is it good when you fuck Daisy Jones? Does Daisy Jones let you inside of her? Does Daisy fucking Jones let you come inside of her?” She was raging at me. Full blown Camila rage I had only seen a few times. And about Daisy?   
It didn’t make sense.

I let her arm go and showed her how confused I was by the sudden projection.

I told her I wasn’t fucking Daisy Jones. She laughed. I asked her what the fuck could actually be funny. She asked me how stupid I thought she was and I just stood there. Dumbfounded, to be honest.

”Don’t you stand there and tell me you haven’t been fucking Daisy. Billy....”

She calmed down some to be sure, but all of the sudden I realized she was so convinced I had been sleeping with Daisy I almost felt bad telling her I had not.

But I told her. The truth. The honest to God truth: I had never laid a hand on Daisy Jones.   
  
And she just stared at me. Her eyes started to glass up and I had this sick feeling that she slept with Greg to get back at me for something I had never done. I mean maybe that’s self centered. I guess it is. But I don’t know that it was wrong either.

She grilled me again:

Did I swear on the girls that I had not ever fucked Daisy.

I did. I swore on my own children that I had never fucked Daisy.

Had I ever messed around with Daisy?

I told her again...no I had not.   
  
Had I ever kissed Daisy?

I swallowed hard, remembering the day at Teddy’s when we had kissed...knowing I had to answer honestly but wishing I could tell her it wasn’t as much of a kiss as it was our lips accidentally touching before I took my mother fucking family to Disneyland because even that guilt ate me up so much I could hardly see straight.

But all I told her was that yes. I had. Once.

She all too calmly asked me if I loved Daisy Jones. And like a coward I responded by asking her if she loved Greg.   
  


Questions that neither of us answered.   
  


My jaw was clenched, and I only realized just how much when my head started to pound from it. I turned from her and threw on a jacket as I grabbed my car keys.

“Are you...leaving?” She yelled to me from behind as I reached the door and I knew what the pause meant. She knew I was leaving the house. She wanted to know if I was leaving her. As if that was an option. Because I wasn’t. And I certainly wasn’t leaving the sleeping trio upstairs. But I didn’t give her that satisfaction. I just left. I slammed the door and left. I thought about going to Graham’s and talking it through with him but there was a part of me that was too embarrassed to do that. To tell my little brother my wife was cheating on me. Not that he would have blamed her. Which is maybe another reason I didn’t go.   
  
So I drove to the studio instead. I didn’t know if I needed to sleep or write or drink or cry or what. But whatever I was gonna do I was gonna do it there, and probably all night. 

That was before I pulled up and saw Daisy’s car in the parking lot. And at that point the mistake I had been fighting so hard not to make? Well it didn’t feel like a mistake anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Daisy Jones**

When Billy walked into the studio it took me about two seconds to realize he was unsettled. Really the only times I had ever seen get him that unsettled it was something that I had done. So for him to hit the ground running at that speed? I knew something was up. He came in and dropped his coat and keys and pulled a notebook out as he laid on the couch. All of this before he even looked at me.

So, because I can’t help myself, I just kind of whispered a hello. And I asked him if he was ok.   
  
He was sprawled on the couch and just barely turned to look at me. The notebook in his hand on his chest, his fingers drumming it. He was chewing the inside of his lip so hard it actually hurt me to watch it and I just arched my eyebrow and asked him again. He sat up. I was across the room. Still sitting at the piano. He just stared at me, and it made my entire body heat up. Not in a sexual way, just in the way that someone was staring at me so intently and it wouldn’t stop. It didn’t help that it was those damn green eyes just boring holes right through me like he had made a habit of.   
  
Then he asked me.

He asked if I thought everyone thought we were sleeping together. Just laid it right out there. The elephant in the room that he and I, along with the rest of the free world at that point, had tried to evade. So I rocked back on the piano bench and leaned my hands over it’s edge. I watched him sit up and put his notebook down, hanging his head slightly and clasping his hands.   
  


So I told him what I thought. What I had always thought: if people believed we were sleeping together they were going to see it that way no matter what. And if people did not believe we were sleeping together they were going to see it that way no matter what. He just stared at me like that wasn’t enough of an answer so I just kept talking. I told him how it was no different than if I wanted to believe he wanted to sleep with me I could convince myself he did. And if I needed to believe he did not want to sleep with me, well, I had been convincing myself of that for over a year at that point.   
  


He was still quiet. Just staring at me. I noticed him casually twirling his wedding band and suddenly realized that it wasn’t “people” that he was worried about. It was a person. It was Camila.   
  
So I asked him.   
  


“Does Camila think we are sleeping together? Is that what you’re asking me?” He was still quiet as I asked so I stood up and moved until I was standing in front of him.

I told him, “Billy I can’t help you sort this out if you’re just going to stare at me.” He raised his eyes, his hands still dangling, and told me that yes. She did.

It stung me. It stung because we weren’t. We hadn’t. No amount of wanting to had ever pushed us over that line. Now...did we fuck each other on stage every night? Did we fall in and out of love with each other night after night after night? We did. And I always wondered how that felt to her. But honestly, that was my job. Or I had convinced myself it was. Making people believe Billy and I were in love was my job. I guess I just felt like it was HIS job to make sure that was ok with his wife. Not mine.

”Did she come out and ask you?” I asked him softly, knowing that if I was hurting...he was hurting more.

He hung his head and smiled against himself as he ran his hands through his hair and left them there.

”She never asked. If she had asked I would have told her no. She just...she just decided we were. And like you said...”

”...if she decided we were there would be no talking her out of it?” I finished his thought for him.

”Right...” he said. And there was heartbreak in his voice that I had only heard when he sang. Not when he spoke. It unnerved me. So I sat next to him.

”So if she has already made up her mind about it, what did she say? And why are you here? Did she ask you to leave?” I asked him, slowly trying to piece the puzzle together. He pulled his hands from his hair and wrung them.

”She slept with someone else. I guess because she figured if I was...so should she.” The way the words left his mouth let me believe he actually thought this was an ok thing for someone to do. But infuriated me. Not just for him. For her. For all of them. So I told him.

”Well that is some fucked up logic. She can’t blame you for her mistakes.” I was angry. It probably wasn’t what he needed but it was how I felt and I couldn’t stop it. We were being blamed for something we had both killed ourselves, literally, to avoid. A part of me died every single fucking night I walked away from him or watched him get on the bus with her, while she was going to blame me for it anyway?? Assume that she knew better than we did? It was all I could do to not fuck him right there out of pure spite. I wouldn’t have felt a single second of guilt. But then...she won. So I tried to calm myself down instead.

”If she had asked. And you had said no. There’s a chance she wouldn’t have believed you.” I wanted him to not blame himself. Because that is exactly what he was doing. It was all over him. I thought back to the day at Teddy’s. When I kissed him. When he let me kiss him for a fraction of a second and then I watched as every muscle in his body fought against it. I remember watching his jaw clench and his teeth close. His chest pound. His fingers grip. He fought so hard against me. Against us. I saw him do it every night on stage: this physical decision to fight back against a basic desire that neither one of us could ignore. But he did. He had to. For her. For his daughters. Ans now he was beating himself up just as badly as he would have if he had given in to it? I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t.

”You don’t think this is just as bad? Sitting here. Singing together. Feeling how we do? Isn’t it just as bad? Isn’t it worse?” He was whispering to himself almost like it was irrelevant to him if I heard it.

”How do we feel?” I turned to him just slightly as I asked, wondering if in his vulnerability I was going to get some honesty from him. And wondering if hearing his say it would make me feel better...or worse. He stared at me and I saw it all over him: his jaw clenching, his hands twisting against each other.

”No.” I stopped him. I put my hand on his jaw until I felt it relax, his lips opening just slightly. I told him for once in his life to just stop fighting. And just like that he read my mind. The way I always suspected he could.

He asked me...would it make it easier it I heard him say it or would it make it harder?

I pressed my forehead into his and closed my eyes. I wanted to hear him say it, but I didn’t need to hear him say it. I kept my hand on his face and he leaned against it. I already knew.

”The girls.....” he whispered....”if I didn’t have....”

I cut him off because there was absolutely no sense in making excuses or justifications. And he stopped. Our faces still pressed together. I could feel his mouth. I felt his breath, hot against mine. I inhaled and pinched my eyes closed...desperate to feel him just like that forever. To be able recall the way he smelled. To have a moment where I could remember what it felt like to know in my core that Billy loved me. He did. It wasn’t an act. It was...a curse.

And I wanted him so badly. I wanted to feel him the way I had needed to feel him and been unable to.   
  
But I knew better. We’d make love and then enter into a life long battle of who could beat themselves up over it more. Who would take more blame. Who would write the first song about crossing that line.   
  


We couldn’t. We still couldn’t. Camila had changed the goal posts. But she could never change the three little girls on the sidelines watching the game.   
  


I pulled my head from his and leaned back. I grabbed his notebook and my pencil. I wrote in it and then shut it. I told him that I was going home. That he should stay. And write. And then go home to his wife. And figure it out.

There was a sadness in his eyes as he watched me gather my things to go, not speaking or moving from the couch. I didn’t say anything else. I just left. I walked past the window and saw him open the notebook. I had just written....that I loved him. And I would always love him. And that everything would be ok.   
  


I needed to believe it. I needed to believe it as I sat in my car and cried so hard I could hardly see the steering wheel. I wanted to go back in. I wanted him to run after me. 

But, like we had done for years, we both took the responsible path. He didn’t chase me and I didn’t beg him.

I also didn’t think about leaving a heartbroken recovering addict in a studio with a stocked bar and a couple bumps of coke.   
  


I guess you can’t win them all.


	4. Chapter 4

** Camila Dunne **

I sat in the kitchen for probably two hours. Just sat there. I couldn’t eat, I didn’t drink. I just sat there. I wasn’t even thinking really. I replayed the conversation with Billy a few times. It’s kept me from replaying my afternoon with Greg, which was making me feel worse and worse with each reliving. I kept seeing Billy’s face when he told me about Daisy. That I had been wrong. Very, very wrong. 

I finally pulled myself from the table and drug my heavy legs up the stairs. I took a shower. Just standing in there. I wanted to cry and couldn’t. I just couldn’t make myself cry. I just let the water pour over me for as long as I could stand it. I tried to think about what it would be like to see him next. What it would mean to our girls. What things might change that I didn’t anticipate.

Those answers came much sooner than I anticipated.

I heard noise downstairs so I shut the water off. Honestly I thought maybe Julia had gotten out of bed and gone for water. But as I grabbed for my robe and put my hair in a towel I knew it was more than that. 

Cabinets opening and closing, clanging, shuffling. I looked at the clock and realized nearly four hours had passed since Billy left. I was remotely relieved that he was back...something inside me told me he wouldn’t be, not that night.I dried off as best I could and then crept down the stairs. I paused at the bottom of them when I heard him swearing under his breath and rifling through a drawer. He was back. But he didn’t sound happy about it.

I moved slowly through the living room, everything dark except the light coming into it from the kitchen. I moved into the same doorway he had trapped me in earlier and watched him. 

And I knew right away. He was disheveled, unkempt. And I could smell it on him across the kitchen. The sweat, the smoke...the booze. My heart sunk in my chest and as much as I wanted to be angry with him, how could I be? Whether it was my fault or not...how could I not take responsibility for that?

I cleared my throat enough to get his attention but he didn’t turn...he just paused. But only slightly, before leaning against the counter and pushing his body over it. 

“Billy....” I started in but he cut me off. Without even looking at me, told me he was fine. But but the way he strung all three words into one I knew that he was definitely not fine. I thought about the guest room down the hallway and wondered if there was a way to get him to it without causing a scene. I had created this mess but I did not want my girls to have any part of it. I cautiously moved into the kitchen until I was beside him at the counter. He slammed the drawer and rattled its’ contents. I asked him if I could help him find something. Trying and hoping and praying that somehow I would make it ok. He just said no and tried to move past me towards the main room. I stepped a foot in his way, blocking him entirely with my body. He looked down over me and I got a good look at him. His eyes were hazy. Green and glowing but not pulling focus like they should. His breath was thick with the smell of whiskey.And his nose was red. Like he has been blowing it too hard or crying or both or...I didn’t want to think of the other or. He wouldn’t look at me. So I asked him where he went. He told me he was at the studio. That Daisy was there. 

That she has told him to go home to me and fix things. I wanted to throw up all over him. 

I asked him if he drove home and felt myself start to cry when he said yes. It was getting to be too much: an affair, a relapse, a woman I thought destroyed my marriage trying to save it, and the father of my children driving through LA half out of his damn mind.

“You’re sorry I made it? That I’m not wrapped around a tree somewhere so you and Greg can take my girls and ride off into the sunset?” He could barely speak but he pushed the words out and pushed himself into me as he spoke them. Before pulling away from me entirely.

“Billy how can you think that.....” I couldn’t say everything I needed to. That I loved him. That the idea of losing him knocked the wind out of me. That I hated myself for making him think that was how I felt. It has been a long time since I had had to decipher what was real and what was the drugs. But I knew this was both. He was already backing away from me. The only silver lining was that I could tell he meant to go to the guest room. But he backed right into the kitchen table and almost fell as I lunged for him and caught him by the belt loop of his jeans, tearing it with my fingers. He reached for me and his hands clenched at my arms...at first to steady himself, and then something darker. Angrier. He held me there for a moment and then unhinged his hands from me as he straightened his shirt and turned to go to the guest room.

I stood there trying to catch my breath and not to cry. I should have gone back upstairs. I should have given him his space. But he had relapsed and I was worried for him. I was scared what it looked like for him, coming back down from that. I hated myself. I hated him. I hated what we were becoming and I had to fight it.

By the time I got to the bedroom he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he hadn’t turned any lights on so it was dark other than the little sliver of moonlight coming in through the drawn drapes. He was messing with hiscoat pocket and trying to pull his arms from the sleeves all at once and I saw a bag of coke fall from it. It was dark and I wondered if he would even notice. I walked into the room and approached the edge of the bed just as he flung his coat loose and and I was able to discreetly kick the small plastic bag under the bed. He barely noticed me as he fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. But then I was in his view and he stared up at me.

“Don’t look at me like that...” he whispered, and to be honest I don’t know how I was looking at him. But I tried to steel my face and remain emotionless. If my face was reflecting my heart it was broken and sad. And I didn’t mind him seeing me that way.I knelt beside him on the bed, pulling my robe around myself like a security blanket, tucking myself into my knees. He turned his head and looked at me, studying me, his eyes still trying to track successfully. He was a mess. His hand was between us on the bed and maybe even without realizing it, he moved it until it was on my thigh. I felt my whole body break out in bumps and I lowered my head.

“Take your hair down...” he half asked and half ordered and I did it, pulling the wet towel from my head and letting my long hair, dark and damp, spill from it and over my shoulders. His hand was still on the top of my thigh and even though he was laying down I felt totally exposed and subservient to him. He gradually pushed his hand, his grip tight on my skin, until it was up inside my robe. I felt my heart pounding. I gasped a little at his touch, rougher than usual, making my skin catch fire under it.

He pushed his hand from the top of my thigh and into the center of them, still clamped together. He pushed his hand and I tightened my thighs and we battled that way for awhile before I gave in and let myself relax enough to open my legs to him. He thrust his fingers inside me with force I didn’t expect. Just like that. No warning. Enough that it knocked me further back onto my heels and unbalanced me. He groaned at the feel of it and I watched him writhe on the bed as his hand moved in me. I was unmistakably turned on for him and by him but I still felt an uneasy weight of the two elephants in the room. 

I could never tell him, and should never tell him, but there was a part of me...bigger than I cared to admit...that missed Billy that way. When he was drunk, or using, there was something almost supernaturally sexy about him. Like he forgot to mask it. I loved making love to him. I always had. But since having Julia it was always making love: like I was fragile, needed to be protected, or like giving me pleasure was his penance for whatever the hell else. He was different when he was half out of his mind and I didn’t realize until his hand was forcing me up off my knees just how much I had missed it.

He sat up beside me, his hand still moving inside me forcefully back and forth, until he was next to me. His free hand snaked its way up my neck and into my hair. He played with it lazily as I moaned under his hand before he grabbed a good sized clump at the back of my neck and tugged my head backwards.

I winced. I winced and made a sound that normally would have stopped him in his tracks but now only seemed to encourage him. His fingers were spreading inside me, filling me. And I could hear how wet it was. I moaned with my mouth hanging open and my throat exposed. 

“You like that?” he asked and I nodded as I rolled my hips, pushing his hand deeper. I felt him move another finger in me until everything but his thumb were all but clawing at my insides. I bit my lip and whined and he asked me to let him hear it. It was another aspect of our lovemaking that had changed over the years...since now we were more often than not buried under the covers and hiding our faces in each other or pillows to try to not wake up the girls. But I let him hear me, I cried out in a voice that didn’t sound like my own and he tugged my hair back hard, making me scream. 

“You want me to stop?” He asked forcefully, knowing that even if I did want him to I wouldn’t say it. But I did not. I shook my head no quickly as I winced at the feel of his hand still pushing deeper...his thumb on my clit trying to keep me wet enough to endure it. I finally let my legs fail me as I rolled onto my back, my legs and robe falling open. Billy let go of my hair and I raised my hands over my head, burying them in my hair even as it fell sloppily over my face. Billy took his hand from my pussy and ran it, soaked, over my stomach. I could have cum right there. I was dripping. He undid my robe and pushed it open, revealing my heaving chest and hardening nipples. His eyes were dark, still lost somewhere between sobriety and complete withdrawal from reality. He moved up the bed on his knees as his hands worked the fly on his jeans. He pulled his cock free. Surprisingly and alarmingly hard. And I knew he meant to fuck my mouth. My hands were still in my hair as he ran his salty sweet tip over my bottom lip. I took a deep breath because I could tell this would come just as aggressive as his hand had. And I was not wrong.

He pushed his cock right into my throat until he was firmly resting on my face. I flailed beneath him, reaching to grab his hips with my hands in an effort to pull him back but he was having none of it. He pushed deeper into my mouth and started to pick his pace up, triggering my gag reflex with every thick thrust. I looked up at him, begging him with my eyes to slow down but he bit his lip and grabbed the top of my head, pushing and pulling me on and off of him. I kicked my legs, digging them into the bed for leverage and as I lifted my heels and ass I could feel my dampness running from my pussy and down into my ass. Billy noticed too and used his free hand to cover me, pressing his palm against my slick opening. Creating heat and friction I almost couldn’t stand. I screamed a muffled yell against his cock and torso. He pushed even deeper into my throat and my eyes rolled back as he choked me. He had pushed two fingers into me..hard..and even as I pushed against his hips in protest I started to cum violently on his hand. My body bucked out of my control and he had to fight so hard to keep his hand in me that he lost grip on my head and his cock sprung from my mouth as I groaned gutterally.

My body was clamping down on his fingers ans he continued his assault on me even as I begged him to stop. I was so sensitive it was agony but I couldn’t stop cumming. I twisted and turned under him until he wrapped his free hand around the back of my neck and lowered his body next to mine. He turned my head and forced my eyes on his. I cried out for him and shouted his name several times as I slowed to tiny pulses around his fingers, bucking hard into his hand involuntarily. At some point during my orgasm I had started crying and my face was damp. It was like we both registered it at the same time. But he was relentless. The Billy who would have cared that I was crying? He wasn’t back yet. If this Billy cared it wasn’t enough to just take me in his arms and hold me.

But that wasn’t what I needed anyway.

He leaned into my shoulder, breathless. He was pressing into my naked side, his hard cock at my hip even as the rest of him remained fully clothed.

“Did he make you cum like that?” He hissed into my hair and neck as his fingers still brought my hips jerking into the air. I winced at the pain in his voice before turning to him.

“He didn’t make me cum at all....” I whispered. Not sure what answer he would want to hear. So I gave him the truth. And he punished me for it.

He pulled his hand from me and grabbed my hip in one movement, rolling me from my back to my stomach. I pushed my hands into the bed to catch myself, my nipples aching against the cold sheets as I felt him tugging at my robe. He pulled it from my arms and I watched it sail across the room as he threw it. 

“Get up” He demanded as he lifted my hips and I scooted onto my knees. He was behind me and I felt his cock hot against my throbbing center. I pushed my face into the bed and cried out as I pushed back into him, but he recoiled...teasing me with his cock as I kept pushing back and trying to find him.

“Beg...” his voice was low and sexy and breathy and I couldn’t wait to do exactly what he asked.

“Please fuck me, Billy.” 

I repeated it over and over until I felt the head of his cock push between my lips. I pushed back against him as I begged some more...

“Please fuck me hard.”

In one swift and violent movement he was completely inside me, deep in my belly, and I wailed into the sheets as I grabbed fistfuls of them. He had me by the hips pulling my body back into him so hard that if I hadn’t been clenching the sheets I would have been pulled up into the air. At that angle he hit every part of me and I couldn’t stop screaming even as I tried to muffle it against the bed.

He leaned over my back as he pumped me full of his cock and grabbed my right arm, freeing it from the sheets and pushing it down under my stomach until my hand was between my legs. I gratefully pushed my fingers over my wet entrance and felt him slipping easily in and out of me. I played with my clit long and hard, stroking it and then furiously rubbing it to match his pace. His fingers dug into my hips and I rolled them against him, lost in how incredible it felt and not in the aggression behind it...although that turned me on, too. I pushed my hand down and found the base of his cock just against me, pushing my fingers past him to squeeze his base as he fucked me which made him moan and pant as I dared him not to cum. 

He ran a hand up my back and found my hair, now just as wet from sweat as the shower. And took it in his hand..tugging my head back like it was the reins of a horse. It was only then I realized that, even in the moonlight, I could see him. In the long mirror across the room by that bathroom, I could see him fucking me from him behind. His body taut and languid at the same time, rolling in a supernatural rhythm as he drove himself deep into my body. His hand alternating between squeezing my hips and ass. Forcing my head back to him by the hair. Biting his lip and watching himself move in and out of me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. He caught me looking, and I realized he hadn’t noticed either. 

He watched, I felt his eyes on my breasts in the mirror, watching them bounce beneath us as he claimed me. And I realized that’s what it was. He was claiming me. Or more accurately...reclaiming me. And I wanted him to. I needed him to. 

“Tell me you love it....” he growled and I moaned immediately, my throat tight from my head being tugged and the amount of screaming I had done for him. 

“I....love....it.....” my voice shot from my throat  in hot bursts between painful breaths. I repeated it over and over as he sped up his pumping thrusts, slamming into me with a force that knocked the wind from me. I just kept crying out for him, telling him how much I loved it as I felt my body getting close. He was going to break me. 

But he broke first.

“Tell me you love me...”

His voice changed, shifted. It was fragile, and needy. It belied the forcefulness with which he was taking me. And I saw it on his face, too. A pain that told me this amount of rage wasn’t about sex, it was about love. Or more accurately: the threat of losing it. I watched him in the mirror, holding his eyes as he tugged my hair but his bucking into me gradually managed to slow as he stared at me...and I was stunned silent.

“Tell me...” he whispered, misreading my quiet. He let go of my hair and rested his hands on my lower back. He was still deep inside me...but still. I rocked forward onto my hands and felt him slip from me. I didn’t like the emptiness he left behind. I spun around until I faced him...still on his knees, his cock still standing hard between us, his eyes blinking harder than they had been as he flirted with string to sober up. He was dizzy, I could see it in the slight sway of his body on the mattress, so I pushed him back on the bed and he clumsily moved to lay down.I crawled up over him, squatting just below him, my hands running over his chest under his shirt, playing gently in the hair there until I reached his collarbone and traced it, my hands landing on his shoulders as I lifted myself up and over his throbbing cock.

“I love you. I love you so much. I will always, always love you.”

I let myself cry and watched it move him. If he had reclaimed me I was about to do the same. Remind him that even if he hadn’t slept with Daisy, he HAD given her all set of him...and I wanted it back. He whispered that he was sorry and I told him that we both had plenty to be sorry for. He was still softly apologizing as I lowered onto him. I gradually, softly, took him deep into me until I was resting fully on him. I still had my hands up under his t-shirt and he helped me pull it off of him, sitting up gradually. As he tossed it aside he reached for me and pulled me down on top of him. I melted into his chest and wrapped my arms around him. We rocked together silently until we came...both of us relatively silent other than our hurried breathing and whispered I love you’s. Our orgasms coming simultaneously even without the usual announcement and fanfare. I collapsed into him fully as my body slowed and I wanted to just fall asleep in the safety of his arms with him deep inside me instead of facing anything else. I could feel his heart pounding and his sweat smelled like booze. I wondered if this would be a one time thing or if we were about to strap back in for something worse. I thought about the bag of coke under us. But I felt his breath change and I knew he was passing out under me. I shifted only enough to cover us with a sheet and watched him drift off to sleep as I told him I loved him. 

And that we would be ok.


End file.
